Thursday, February 4, 2010

Free To Wander (7/90)

I set a new schedule for myself nearly a month ago when I decided that I'd spend my weekends trying to get ahead on the next weeks assignments. But, I need a night off that I can put my to-do list out of sight and veg out, guiltlessly. Thursdays have become that night. 

My mind is free to wander, until tomorrow. 

I spoke with my mom as I drove the 40 minutes home tonight. We talked about all of the things that I have to get done within the next few months and my breath became shallow. 

I've yet to secure an internship for the summer. There is important paper work to gather and complete while I am in Tampa next month. I need to find a new doctor, one that I like. Oh and I've got to decide where I'll go to live and work after I graduate. 

We also talked about sixth grade curriculum, cursive handwriting and Malcolm Gladwell. Before my drive was over, I was calm again. 

I ran into a boy that I dated over the summer tonight. I saw him pull into the gas station, but I kept my eyes straight ahead. I hoped he wouldn't notice me standing there pumping my gas, shivering. But he did. He walked over, reached out for an awkward hug and asked how I was. I hoped that would be it, but it wasn't. He kept talking, and talking, and talking. I'd forgotten how much I liked his light brown eyes as he stood there searching for hints that I wouldn't give him, scanning my face for some sign of affection. 

And I stood there wondering if he thought I had forgotten how our few months together ended, how he just stopped calling and became unreachable the weekend that we had plans for a double date. He pulled out his BlackBerry and asked if my number was the same. I felt myself filling up with judgement when he asked me to hang out this weekend, but I said "maybe" with a smile, got into my car and pulled away. 
But here I am wandering the night away. This is not the wandering that I need. This wandering is not calming, this wandering is not free. 

For this wandering, there is always tomorrow. 


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